


New Memories

by STARSdidathing



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Tony Stark, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers (2012), Tony Feels, Tony Needs a Hug, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/pseuds/STARSdidathing
Summary: Loki enjoys exploring the other villain lairs as it can provide all manner of information and items to steal. He doesnotexpect to find Anthony Stark as a prisoner. Nor does he expect the man to act so... strangely.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 88
Kudos: 1032
Collections: Fics that make my heart go OOF with fluff, FrostIron





	New Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I think this might be the first time I've done an amnesia fic with these boys? Huh. That's actually surprising.

Loki liked to spy on the other villains. Honestly, their security was pitiful. The heroes had better defences in place to keep him out.

Loki would wander their little hideouts invisible, listening in on their conversations and plans. Sometimes, he would steal an item or two. Mostly, he liked to keep an eye on those who might one day attempt to turn their schemes against him.

It was on one such excursion through a HYDRA bunker that Loki found a most unexpected sight.

Loki never left a room unchecked, not after finding Thanos’ sceptre within their walls. How SHIELD had been so _useless_ as to lose it, Loki didn’t know. The criminal organisation had two mortal youths whom they wished to experiment on. Loki had stolen the item back and destroyed the base. He didn’t care how many of the mortals died, his priority was finding a _safe_ spot for the mind stone.

(If he dropped it without word or note on Frigga’s balcony, no one need know. He might not be willing to see his adopted mother, but he knew she would understand what to do with it. She might even realise what had happened to Loki and finally listen to his thinly veiled warnings.)

He paid more attention to HYDRA after that.

It made it all the more surprising to be walking through their damp and well-guarded lower rooms to discover a prisoner.

But, not just any prisoner. It was _Stark_. The man was sitting on a filthy cot, his legs drawn up to his chin and his arms wrapped around them. He looked so… unnatural. Stark was the only mortal who never showed him fear. Stark refused to back down or treat him with anything resembling respect.

It was galling, but it also intrigued Loki. He’d never had a chance to study Stark the way he wished to – now, he had that chance.

Loki debated for only a moment before revealing himself to the man. His lips were curved into a smirk, but unlike the fury he expected, Stark leapt backwards, his eyes wide and suitably panicked.

“What the- what-”

“Consider it your lucky day, Stark,” Loki said, his smirk hinting at danger rather than comfort.

He stepped closer and although Stark shied from him, Loki didn’t stop. He grabbed the man’s shoulder and tugged him a little closer. Stark’s eyes were wide, but he wasn’t protesting, which was out of character. 

Loki didn’t focus on it, choosing instead to teleport them out of the base and to his Midgardian apartment. He let the man go, but was kind enough to wait until he had his feet underneath him.

Stark’s eyes were darting around the room with fear and confusion. His body was hunched in a defensive, protective manner. Loki’s brows furrowed. Stark didn’t make one of his many quips, he didn’t shout or complain. 

Loki didn’t keep a keen eye on the mortal heroes, but he and the Avengers had fought a little over a month ago and Stark had been present. He knew Stark had been a captive for longer than a few weeks in the past. He couldn’t imagine the mortal’s mind breaking after such little time with HYDRA.

Loki wasn’t _concerned_ , he was merely confused. 

His voice was gruff as he asked, “What in the Nine is wrong with you, Stark?”

“You keep calling me that.”

Loki’s frown deepened. “Stark? I have always called you that.”

“Then you know me,” Stark said, his eyes gaining a strange glimmer. “And you seem familiar to me too.”

The realisation hit Loki suddenly as the pieces fell into place: the mortal had lost his memory.

While he was initially startled, Loki was soon running through numerous options and plans. He had intended to keep Stark to barter with Thor and gain a prize for the return of their missing hero. He had also hoped to worm information out of the mortal about his armour and tactics - now that was not possible. He couldn’t learn anything from the mortal while he was in such a state.

“We are acquainted,” Loki answered carefully. “Your name is Anthony Stark. I am Loki.”

“Loki,” Stark said, his brow furrowed before he gave a small, but no less blinding smile. “Thanks for saving me, Loki.”

Loki’s lips twitched as he supressed a wry smirk. It seemed that along with his memories, Stark’s distrust and innate suspicion had been stolen too.

“You are welcome,” Loki answered a little stiffly. He swiftly changed the subject. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Stark hunched, his good humour fading for a hunted fear. “The cell.”

Loki tried to infuse his voice with compassion rather than impatience. “How long were you there?”

“It didn’t have a clock,” Stark stated, and Loki found it decidedly odd that the words were said without sarcasm. “A few weeks?”

“Had you been there before losing your memory?”

“I don’t think so,” Stark said. “They treated me like I was new. They didn’t expect me to lose my memory.”

Loki nodded. He expected as much. HYDRA had no qualms in removing memories to use people for their benefit, but if they had wanted Stark for his mind then they would have been furious to find the man devoid of his usual creativity.

If they had chosen to steal his memories, they would have presented themselves as a friend or manipulated him. They would have done _something_ other than shove him in a dank, dark room to rot.

“So, um, who am I?” Stark asked.

Loki blinked from his thoughts to look at the man. His brown eyes were shining with curiosity and hope. They were unguarded and he had even stepped towards Loki without an ounce of fear. It was unnerving. Stark was defenceless, vulnerable and entirely in Loki’s power – only, he had no idea why Loki might be a danger to him.

Loki had saved him, and it meant Stark was _trusting_ him. Loki didn’t know how to feel about that.

His rarely acknowledged conscience made itself known. He wanted to learn Stark and the Avengers’ secrets, but not in this manner. It was too… vulgar. 

“You are a hero,” Loki finally replied. “A defender of your planet. You were captured by an enemy you and your crew of heroes often battle.”

Stark frowned. “And you’re not one of them?”

“HYDRA?”

Stark rolled his eyes. “ _Obviously_ , you’re not one of them. I meant one of the heroes I fight with, you implied you weren’t. Does that mean we know each other another way?”

Loki almost smiled. The irony was not lost on him.

“I am… acquainted with one of the heroes on your team. We often cross paths.”

Stark nodded, accepting it easily. He also turned his attention to the apartment, looking around with curious eyes. It gave Loki the chance to truly look at Stark.

He was filthy. Stark’s hair was a mess and his usual facial hair was becoming a beard. His clothing was old and dirtied. His skin had a thin layer of grime on it and he had lost weight. HYDRA did not look after their prisoners.

Unbidden, a memory of his own time as a prisoner flashed through his mind, but he forcefully pushed it aside. It was _not_ the same – and yet, Loki found himself offering, “I have a shower, should you wish for one.”

Stark’s gaze snapped to him, full of longing. “ _Please_.”

Loki nodded and after only a moment’s hesitation, turned his back on Stark to lead him through the apartment. Stark was hot on his heels and offered no quips or complaints. The silence was odd. Stark was always in motion and forever chattering. Loki rarely met him outside the battlefield or a SHIELD holding cell, but he was never standing still. It further highlighted the change he had gone through.

When they reached Loki’s bedroom, he didn’t pause, pushing it open and directing Stark to the ensuite bathroom. Stark didn’t look at the bed nor make a sexual joke. Another oddity in the man’s new personality. 

He paused inside the bathroom to ask, “What about clothes?”

“I’ll procure you some,” Loki answered.

Stark flashed him another smile before he grabbed the doorhandle and shut the door. Loki eyed the closed room for a long moment. This was not what he had planned when he'd kidnapped Stark. This was not what he _should_ be doing with an amnesiac Stark in his clutches.

He should be holding him for ransom or dropping him on the Avengers doorstep. He should not be offering his shower or preparing to conjure him clothes.

Yet… something in Loki couldn’t toss the man aside and throw him into even further turmoil. Loki might not be the most moral man, but he had enough common decency to treat Stark with the compassion befitting his situation.

Stark did not remember who he was, so Loki would not treat him as an enemy. He would let him bathe, change into fresh clothes, and give him a meal. Then, he would send him to his fellow Avengers and things would return to normal.

Loki would simply have a new ace up his sleeve for when the Avengers tried to capture him. Anthony Stark owed Loki his life, surely, that would be a useful bargaining chip.

* * *

After conjuring Stark clothes and making them appear on the bathroom counter, Loki concentrated on an early dinner. He had sampled enough Midgardian cuisine to be able to make a meal that would be beneficial for Stark.

A Midgardian ‘stir fry’ provided vegetables and meat which would give him necessary vitamins and work towards regaining the weight the mortal had lost. 

He did pause halfway through chopping vegetables to wonder _why_ he cared about what he was cooking. He could just as easily shove bread at Stark and tell him to make a sandwich, yet, it didn’t sit well with him. Loki had been raised a prince, and that meant, he was raised to be a good host.

If Stark was not his prisoner or his enemy, it made the mortal his _guest_ , and that required that Loki be civil and attentive. The realisation had an ironic smirk curling his lips. It seemed, despite all he rejected about Asgard and his so-called family, his royal manners were not something he could shake.

Loki’s amusement remained as he continued to make the meal, using magic to speed up the process. 

He almost forgot that Stark was there; so used to living alone. It was the sound of feet on the carpet that made him turn. Stark’s brown eyes were wide with fascination and yet, beneath that, wistfulness.

He frowned. “Stark?”

“I wish I could do that.”

“Do what?”

Stark pointed and Loki realised with some surprise that he was referencing Loki’s seidr.

“I tried,” Stark added, coming forward to rest against the counter. “When I saw the clothes in the bathroom. I thought ‘ _can I do that too?_ ’ but nothing happened. I don’t think I can.”

“No,” Loki said, feeling an unusual twinge. “You are not a mage.”

He knew it was the amnesia talking; if Stark had his own memory, he would never be so disappointed to not have magic. He would not look so _wistfully_ at Loki’s seidr. 

Turning away, his voice became gruff as he asked, “Are you hungry?”

Stark’s stomach rumbled in response. When Loki glanced back at him, the other man looked sheepish. Loki nodded at one of the chairs in the living space. “Sit.”

Stark, rather than choosing the comfortable chairs Loki had directed him towards, took a place at the counter. Loki was perplexed. It was a spot he often took when eating, not wanting to get food on his furniture. He did not expect Stark to choose them, yet, the reasoning why became obvious.

“Have I been captive before?”

Loki didn’t stiffen, but he turned around slowly, keeping his face blank. “Why do you ask?”

“Because they said that once.” Stark frowned. “They seemed almost wary. They didn’t believe I’d lost my memory, at first.” His expression went dark. “They knew, eventually. That’s when they left me alone.”

Loki was able to connect enough dots to understand what had happened. He wasn’t sure of the best course of action here. Memory loss was rare among the Aesir and swiftly fixed by a talented healer. Loki was not versed in such practises and doubted Stark would wish for him to use such invasive mental magic, regardless. They didn’t have the best history with such tactics, after all.

He supposed the truth wouldn’t hurt.

“You were captured once,” Loki admitted. “You escaped and destroyed those whom had harmed you. I believe your reputation for escape and retribution has many enemies worried.” 

Loki almost smiled; it was something he had privately admired about Stark. Rising from the ashes of torture and torment to lay waste to those who had harmed him. Loki’s own attempts were not so glorious or successful, but then, his enemies had been far worse than a few measly mortals.

“Oh,” Stark said, and Loki focused back on him. The mortal’s eyes were wide and he was a little pale. He gave a pained smile. “Guess I didn’t live up to that.”

It was a glimpse at Stark’s usual humour and the sight was familiar enough to make Loki’s lips twitch. The one thing that he could always count on Stark for was lively banter.

Yet, despite a quip being on his lips, Stark was already looking away. His remark hadn’t been the first volley in a series of scathing witticisms. It had been a quiet statement of pain and uncertainty. He didn’t know who he was, or how to address the man he’d been.

Loki held in a sigh and turned back to the meal. Honestly, the sooner he returned Stark to the Avengers the better. 

A few moments of silence passed as Loki stirred the meal.

“Have I been here before?” Stark asked into the quiet.

Loki paused, but didn’t look over his shoulder. “No.”

“Oh,” Stark murmured. “Why not?”

Loki withheld a sigh. It would be so easy to teleport the man to his tower and have his fellow heroes explain the situation, but Loki did not feel that was… fair. It would be cowardly to send Stark away rather than deal with a complex question.

“We are often at odds and we do not spend time together,” Loki replied. “I found you by coincidence, nothing more. I will be sending you back to your fellow Avengers once you have eaten.”

“Oh,” Stark said again, but nothing more was forthcoming.

Loki was grateful for the silence. He might be a master liar, capable of weaving tales even the most suspicious mind would believe but to tell a man lies in this state? Loki refused to be so unscrupulous. He despised much of his time on Asgard, but he couldn’t disregard the basics of honour. He wouldn’t deliberately mislead Stark in his vulnerable state.

He would avoid the truth, if only to spare them a confrontation and to terrify the mortal, but he wanted to avoid further questions. However, knowing the little he did of Stark, leaving the man to occupy himself wouldn’t end well.

Stark was a unique mortal who was always in motion, always creating, and always seeking answers. Loki needed to stem the flow of curiosity before it truly begun. It took him a moment to settle on a neutral enough topic.

“There is water and juice in the fridge. Or I possess tea and coffee. Take what you would like to drink.”

Loki kept his gaze on the food but he heard the chair move before Stark came around to the fridge and opened it, peering inside. He didn’t take anything instead he shut the fridge and asked, “What do I like to drink?”

Loki tried not to sigh. At least it was a simple and easily avoided question. 

“That is for you to discover.”

Stark opened the fridge again, and Loki couldn’t help glancing at him. He pulled out the jug of water and the three bottles of juice. When Stark looked at him, Loki pointed him at the right cupboard. Stark grabbed a glass and filled it halfway with water.

He then proceeded to drink it, before attempting one juice after another. Loki’s lips twitched as he watched the display. Apple juice he didn’t seem to like. Orange juice was swallowed neutrally, but to Loki’s surprise, he enjoyed the vegetable blend. 

He then moved on to sniff the various tea blends. When he got his first whiff of the coffee beans his eyes flared and he broke out in a smile. 

“Oh, _this_ , I love.”

Loki tensed; he couldn’t help it. “You remember?”

“No,” Stark said, and his voice had fallen, sounding deflated and causing Loki to glance at him. He was staring at the coffee beans with a sad expression. “But I love the smell.” He looked at Loki, still seeming downtrodden. “Probably means I love it too, right?”

Loki felt a stab of pity mixed with compassion. It wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time. Even on Asgard, he rarely felt sorry for his enemies, and indeed, even those he wounded in spars. They would never extend such feelings to him, so why would he offer it to them?

But, Stark was a unique case, and seeing him so defenceless and vulnerable, it tugged at something long dormant within Loki. It made him soften and suggest, “Why not try some then? See if you can work the machine. You are a famed engineer. Loss of memory or not, I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

Slowly, some of the light re-entered Stark’s eyes and he turned to the machine with determination. He didn’t ask about his status as a ‘famed engineer’ but Loki knew it was only a matter of time. The coffee had momentarily distracted him, but it wouldn’t last for long.

Loki turned back to the food and continued cooking.

Despite the sound of another person and the way Stark muttered as he fiddled with the machine, Loki found himself relaxing. The company was strangely pleasant.

* * *

Stark delighted in learning the inner workings of the coffee machine. He even started pulling it apart, much to Loki’s amusement. When he realised what he was doing, he seemed wary of reprisal. Loki just told him to put it back together and make him a coffee while he was there.

Stark made _very_ good coffee. 

Sitting down to dinner with Stark was a little more uncomfortable. Loki had shared many meals with his enemies both as Prince of Asgard and in the years since his fall from grace. This was the first time he’d sat with someone who saw him as a liberator, a friend even. Loki felt unusually uncomfortable with the deception.

They were sitting at opposite sides of the dining table Loki normally used for spreading out his magic tomes and researching his latest spells. It was the first time he had shared it with another.

“So,” Stark said, poking at a piece of corn. “What are they like?”

Loki paused his eating. “Whom?

“The Avengers.” Loki’s face twisted; he couldn’t stop it. Stark’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t like them?

“We are… often at odds.”

“Why?”

“I do not get along with them.”

Stark popped another piece of vegetable in his mouth, his brown eyes full of curiosity. “Why?”

Loki sighed. “Why is it important? My relationship with them is of no bearing to you.”

Loki made a gesture with his hand and a Midgardian tablet landed on the table beside Stark. It had much of the information the Hawk had given him during his invasion attempt. Loki might detest the memory of that time of his life and all he suffered under the Mad Titan’s influence, but he would be a fool to disregard such useful information. 

Now, Stark could familiarise himself with his colleagues.

Stark’s fingers were already flying over it with the familiarity of a lifetime of use. 

“These are the people I fight with?”

“Yes,” Loki answered. “They live with you as well.”

Stark’s eyes narrowed on a particular image. He tilted his head before deciding. “I don’t like him.”

Loki frowned, honestly curious. He leant forward and Stark turned it around for him to see. Loki couldn’t help snorting. “The Captain is one of your more annoying members, yes.”

“Well, I don’t like him. Something about him…” Stark frowned, his eyes going distant before he shook it off. “I don’t like him.” He flicked his fingers again and a picture of Banner showed up. “I… think I like him.”

It was interesting to watch. Loki had heard of those with memory loss reacting strongly to certain emotional triggers. Loki found it curious that a dislike for Rogers was so engrained. Loki wouldn’t have thought there was such discontent within the Avengers.

It also made him wonder…

“What do you think about me?”

Stark lifted his head. His eyes were piercing, hinting at all the intelligence locked behind confusion and ignorance.

“I don’t know. You’re… familiar, but I don’t know anything else.” He smiled, the expression open and friendly. “You saved me. I think I’m going to be a little biased, Loki.”

He smiled wryly. It was an odd concept to have someone biased _in_ his favour. Normally, it was the other way around.

Still, it mattered little. Soon, Stark would be returned to his tower and once he regained his memory, he would no doubt be horrified at his actions. It made Loki’s smile grow a little wider. He would make sure to tease Stark about that once he was Iron Man again.

The reminder would no doubt be an uncomfortable and bitter one for him.

Stark had turned back to the tablet during the silence, reading everything it contained. He’d also stopped eating and Loki frowned.

“Stark,” he said. It took two attempts before he jerked up his head. “You need to eat.”

“Oh,” he said, looking at his plate. “Sorry.”

He speared a piece of meat and popped it in his mouth before turning back to the tablet.

It was better than nothing and Loki returned to his meal. They were silent but for the tapping and soft swiping of Stark’s fingers on the device. Loki let him do what he wished. He couldn’t contact his artificial servant on the device (and Loki doubted Stark would know how to) and it kept him occupied.

Loki let his thoughts wander as he ate. How would he return Stark?

Would he deposit him via teleport into the man’s home? Of course, that would be disorienting and confusing for Stark.

Would he bring the man to the tower himself? It would certainly cause a commotion and would thrust Stark into the middle of a hostile situation. It would solve the problem of explaining they were enemies, at least.

He could attempt to contact Thor, negotiate a time to exchange Stark. It would be less likely to end in conflict and had a higher chance of gaining him a boon. Thor would feel honour-bound to offer Loki a favour.

Yes, that was a much better solution. He would contact Thor and arrange a clandestine meeting to discuss his possession of Stark. It would be a simple affair. Thor still yearned to bridge the gap between them. He would come, especially if Loki used the right wording in his message.

Loki was already mentally composing his note to the Thunderer when he heard a clang that made him blink and focus back on the room and more specifically, Stark. His fork had hit the plate, but he hadn’t seemed to notice. His eyes were half-closed and he was leaning his chin on his hand – soon, his elbow would slip and he’d no doubt hit his chin against the table.

Honestly, Loki was surprised this hadn’t happened earlier. Stark had been a prisoner only a few hours ago, and after the trauma of losing his memory and the weeks of minimal food, comfort and safety, he must be exhausted.

Standing, Loki came around the table. Stark didn’t notice him. Loki reached for the mortal’s shoulder and gave it a soft shake. Stark jerked and his tired eyes opened.

“Come,” Loki said. 

He shifted his grip to encourage Stark to stand. He came without protest and Loki directed him through his apartment to the spare room. It had never seen a guest and was more of a storage room, but with a twist of magic, he shifted the items and transformed one of them into a bed. 

When Loki opened the door, it looked as if the room had always been designed to house a guest.

“Rest. We’ll discuss what will happen in the morning.”

Stark, unlike Loki expected, didn’t argue, he merely nodded and stepped into the room. He gave a tired, but grateful smile. “Thanks, Loki.”

Loki felt that same discomfort at being on the receiving end of Stark’s honest and thankful expressions. He settled for a tight nod and turned away from the door. He heard Stark shut it, but didn’t turn to check.

When he reached the table, he flicked his fingers to clear it of the remnants of dinner. His hand hovered over the tablet he’d given Stark, but in the end, he left it where it was. Loki didn’t expect to have Stark with him later than midday tomorrow, but should Stark wish to read more on his fellow heroes, Loki wouldn’t stop him.

Turning to his writing desk, Loki grabbed an old quill, long enchanted to write with green ink and scratched out the note to Thor. He hesitated after finishing. His eyes darted to the room where Stark rested. He could send it to Thor now, but he doubted the Thunderer would wait to try and regain Stark.

The mortal didn’t need such bombardment after everything he’d been through. Loki had experienced Thor’s jubilance more than once while injured, and he wouldn’t force that on even his most hated enemy. Stark could have an evening of uninterrupted sleep; he’d earned that much.

Leaving the message there, Loki turned back to the kitchen. He normally washed without magic, choosing not to waste his seidr, but with Stark sleeping in the other room, Loki decided to use the easy and quiet away.

A sweep of his hand and everything was tidy and put away. It left him alone and uncertain of what to do – in the end, he did what he would normally do. Loki conjured one of his magic books and took a seat back at the table. 

It was with some irony that he continued working on his latest spell to use against the Avengers. Maybe, if Stark was lucky, he wouldn’t regain his memory until _after_ Loki had caused his latest bit of chaos. 

Although, he was sure Stark would make a fetching rabbit.

* * *

The next morning, Loki awoke to the unusual sound of the coffee machine. He jerked up in bed, tense and already with a dagger in hand until he realised Stark was in the apartment. He relaxed and brought a free hand to rub his face. 

He’d spent a long night engrossed in his magic texts. He didn’t wish to be awoken, but… he supposed it was for the best. The sooner he could discard Stark, the better.

Forcing himself out of bed, Loki threw on an illusion to hide his haggard, morning appearance. Stark might be a defenceless guest, but he was still Loki’s enemy and he refused to look less than presentable in the mortal’s presence.

Stark, however, did not have this problem.

When Loki found him in the kitchen, he was in his rumpled clothing, his hair sticking up at odd angles and pillow creases on his face. Loki blinked at the sight, somehow, not expecting it.

Stark smiled widely, and reached for a cup before holding it out. “I made you a coffee.”

Refraining from pointing out that Stark had woken him, Loki took the cup. “Thank you.”

It had been a long time since someone had done such a simple and… kind gesture for him. Stark truly was a caring person at heart. It reaffirmed his decision to give Stark his evening of rest. Stark might be somewhat misguided (waking Loki with his kind gesture) but Loki could appreciate the core of the sentiment.

He took a sip of his second, perfect cup of coffee from Stark.

“Do you wish for breakfast?” Loki enquired, stepping further into the kitchen and reaching for the bread. “We can eat before I contact your fellow heroes.”

“Um, yes. But, I don’t want to make you cook for me. I can do that. I mean, you’ve saved me and you’ve let me stay. I can do something for you, right?”

Loki glanced at the mortal. “You have made me coffee.”

“Yeah, but-”

“You are recovering from an abduction.”

“But-”

“You are also my guest.”

Stark opened his mouth before falling into a mulish silence. He looked put out and a second away from pouting. It was so _innocent_ an expression and combined with his wish to do something for Loki, it found him fighting down a smile.

Stark was… well, he was a breath of the strangest fresh air. A person who knew nothing of Loki and had no preconceptions on which to judge him. Stark treated him with kindness and offered friendly overtures for no other reason than gratitude and his own wish to do something for Loki.

Was it any wonder Loki found himself thawing around the mortal?

Oh, he didn’t forget Stark was an enemy who would slap him in chains or stab him in the back the moment his memories returned – but for now? Loki would hardly be an opportunistic trickster if he didn’t take advantage of what was so readily offered to him.

“If you insist on doing something,” Loki said, “retrieve the condiments from the fridge and pantry.”

Stark brightened and followed the order without delay. He did hesitate over what to choose, but Loki left him to his own devices as he started placing bread in the toaster. He also pulled out some fruit and a knife to start slicing them.

Stark walked around behind him, getting out plates without asking and layering the bench with an assortment of food products. He even got out glasses for juice. It was oddly domestic and Loki filed it away for further teasing quips on the battlefield. 

When the toast and fruit was finished, Loki took a seat and Stark took the one beside him. Their arms brushed and Loki startled at the close proximity. Stark didn’t seem to notice – then again, Loki had observed that he was a tactile human.

Loki forced himself to ignore it and focus on his meal. They ate in silence and Loki savoured each sip of perfectly brewed coffee. He knew that, even with magic, he would not be able to create what Stark had mastered within seconds.

It was a pity, but hardly something he would mourn.

When he finished, Loki stood from the seat and pushed away. He felt Stark’s eyes on him, but ignored him to walk to his magic desk. He picked up the parchment and folded it.

“What’s that?” Stark asked.

“A note I will send to my… acquaintance on your team. He will come to collect you.”

“Which one is he?” Stark questioned. 

Loki looked over his shoulder to find Stark frowning thoughtfully. Briefly, he wondered what Stark would do if he said Rogers. Would he backtrack about disliking him? It was tempting, but Loki refused to outwardly lie to Stark. He wouldn’t manipulate him in this state.

“Thor,” Loki admitted.

Stark’s eyes widened. “The Thunder god?”

“Yes,” Loki drawled, still feeling the usual twinge of bitterness when someone admired the blond oaf.

“Does that mean _you’re_ a god?” Stark asked.

There was a hint of awe tinting his voice and that… that was unusual. Stark denied them as gods, refused to believe Loki’s magic was anything but ‘advanced science’. They had argued once when Loki was ‘captured’ by SHIELD and Stark had come to try and worm answers out of him.

Stark had infuriated, intrigued and amused him in equal measure, but his disdain and disbelief for Loki’s (and by extension Thor’s) superiority had always been prevalent. He was arrogant and presumptuous, but he was _smart_ , and Loki had always been willing to talk with Stark more than any other Midgardian.

Hearing him ask if Loki was a _god_ opened such tantalising pathways. Oh, the things he could say - the ways he could _mock_ Stark for this in the future.

And yet… Stark had made him coffee. 

Loki held in a sigh.

“I am a God of Chaos,” Loki admitted. “But you refuse to consider me as one.”

Stark’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You do not believe that Thor or I are ‘gods’ we are merely ‘ _advanced beings_ ’. We have argued about it on more than one occasion.”

“Oh,” Stark said, an exclamation he seemed fond of. He continued to frown for a few moments before his eyes cleared and he caught Loki’s gaze. “Well, god or not, it’s pretty cool.” He grinned. “And a god of Chaos? Thor must be jealous. All he gets is Thunder.”

The statement startled him, but also made satisfaction curl in his breast. Stark preferred him over Thor, no matter how insignificant the statement was in the greater scheme of things, it still brought Loki pleasure.

It made him glad he’d offered Stark the truth. 

He offered a wane smile. “Thank you, Stark, but you’ll find most people admire Thor’s gift over my own.”

Stark made a face. “Why? Thunder is useless, but chaos breeds creativity.” His tone had been firm, but the moment he finished speaking he frowned. “I… think?” He tilted his head. “I think I’ve said that before. I think I like chaos.”

Loki tried not to feel flattered or proud. It wasn’t _him_ that Stark was admiring but chaos. Oh, that was an intrinsic part of Loki’s being, but he was hardly the only being associated with it. Many creative minds thrived on chaos, it was no surprise Stark was one of them… and yet…

“You are a famed inventor; it is little wonder you dislike order and stagnation.” He smiled faintly. “I have heard the rumours that your laboratory is a ‘disaster zone’.”

Stark had been smiling at the beginning but it faded. “You’ve never seen my lab?”

“No,” Loki answered. “You are very guarded about whom you let in. We have never been close, Stark.”

“That’s a shame,” Stark said, sounding like he meant it. “If I like chaos, wouldn’t I like you?”

Loki snorted. “One does not necessarily follow the other, Stark.”

“I like you now,” Stark pointed out, his words so artless and genuine.

Loki almost felt pity for the man. Loki wasn’t intentionally lying to him, but just being here was making Stark develop a different opinion. Without any of the biases of their past association and without Loki stoking the flames of their antagonism they were surprisingly civil. 

“I am being deliberately hospitable,” Loki explained. “You also feel some level of gratitude towards me. It’s little surprise you are developing fondness rather than hate.”

“Hate?” Stark asked, his eyes wide. “I _hate_ you?”

Loki winced internally. “We are not friends, Stark. Let us leave it at that.”

“But why not? What happened? Why don’t we-”

“Stark,” Loki interrupted, his voice hardening. “I will not continue that topic.”

Stark scowled. “But, I want to know. I _deserve_ to know. It’s my life and memories!”

“And your fellow heroes can fill in those gaps when you return to them.”

Stark’s agitation faded, and his eyes filled with a different emotion. It looked almost like regret. 

“Did something happen between us, Loki?”

It took Loki a moment to understand and when he did, he almost laughed. _By the Norns_. Stark thought they were friends who’d had a falling out. Loki’s vague answers probably weren’t helping that assumption either.

But, it was too difficult to explain otherwise. If Stark wanted to believe that version of events, it was easier to let him – with any luck, he’d be back with his heroes within a few hours and they could enjoy the task of straightening out Stark’s thoughts and memories. It was not Loki’s responsibility. He’d already been far kinder than he needed to be.

“Leave it be, Stark,” Loki said, giving his voice a hint of finality.

It wouldn’t stop Stark’s curiosity, but it should curb his questions, at least for now. Stark didn’t look happy, but he gave a mulish nod. It allowed Loki to focus back on the parchment. His fingers tinged green with his magic as he searched for Thor. 

He wasn’t at Avengers Tower so he widened his search, wondering if Thor was with his mortal lover, but when that proved incorrect, he used more targeted magic to locate the Thunderer. He scowled when he realised why he’d had difficulty.

Thor was on Asgard.

He gritted his teeth. Now, what was he to do? He could send Stark back to the Avengers without Thor, but he knew it would limit his chances of getting a favour. The alternative was keeping Stark in his apartment until the Thunderer returned.

“Loki?” He startled and found Stark had climbed off the seat and had come close, his eyes were full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t realise he’d clenched his fist around the parchment. He loosened his hold, and when he spoke, the lie came easily to his tongue. “I cannot send you back yet. Thor isn’t there and it would be dangerous to return you at the current moment.”

“Oh,” Stark said, and a hint of worry appeared in his voice. “What does that mean?”

“It means you will be staying here longer than I expected.”

Loki didn’t miss the relief in Stark’s gaze, even if the worry remained. “Is that okay? I don’t want to be here if you don’t want me.”

Loki tried not to sigh. Insecurity was not a trait he associated with Stark, but he supposed, after everything he’d been through and the little information Stark had, it wasn’t unexpected that he’d feel nervous of his welcome here.

“No, Stark, it’s fine.”

Stark smiled, and the expression lit up his face. It was blinding and warm; it hinted at exactly why Stark was able to charm many men and women into his bed. The Midgardian truly was a handsome man.

“Thanks, Loki.”

Loki nodded before slipping the paper into his pocket. “I am going to bathe.” He made a vague gesture. “Do what you wish.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he turned and walked towards his bedroom. It would be interesting to have Stark here for a few days, but hopefully, he would turn out to be an agreeable house guest.

* * *

The morning passed without incident. Loki finished his shower and Stark politely requested a turn. Loki knew that magically altered clothes wouldn’t be enough to sustain the mortal. It took the matter of moments to teleport himself to a general store. He had utilised the Midgardian ‘stock market’ within weeks of his escape from prison to gain almost as much money as Stark.

He purchased clothing and the usual human personal amenities. When he returned, Stark had finished his shower but hadn’t yet entered his bedroom. Loki left all of the items on the mortal’s bed and sat down with a book. He barely noticed Stark pottering around the apartment, but he did pay attention when the mortal stopped in front of him.

Loki glanced up to find Stark holding the plastic bag which contained a razor, shampoo, conditioner, soap, hair product and even a bottle of cologne. Loki knew how important it could be to regain one’s sense of self by their personal appearance.

“When did you get this?” His question was more astonished than accusatory.

“While you were showering,” Loki stated, before turning back to his book. “I can procure you a picture if you wish to know the design of your facial hair.”

“The… design?”

“Yes, you are very particular.”

“I can’t just shave it all off?”

Loki’s lips twitched and he glanced back at the mortal. “I am not sure you would be happy about that when you regain your memories.”

Stark made a face, but he took the bag and headed back to the bathroom. Loki used a small amount of magic to send the tablet after him, with a picture of Stark saved to the folder. He didn’t offer any other information, not wanting to risk jogging the man’s memory.

He returned to his reading, but didn’t have long before he was interrupted. “How’s this?”

Loki glanced up and startled. He almost expected Stark to aim a repuslor at him. The man was standing with his arms splayed, a smile on his lips and the tablet in one hand. His facial hair was shaved and trimmed into its usual style and his hair was perfectly coiffed to match the picture Loki had sent him.

The clothing was nothing but a cheap shirt and jeans, and yet, considering the lack of discrimination in Stark’s wardrobe, it could have come from the man’s own closet.

He looked every inch Anthony Stark; hero, engineer, mortal and enemy.

“You look like yourself, Stark,” Loki remarked. 

He went to turn away when Stark questioned, “Why do you call me that?”

Loki frowned. “Stark?”

“Yes. It’s my surname, isn’t it?”

“We aren’t on friendly terms, Stark.”

“Maybe we _weren’t_ ,” Stark insisted, “but we are now.” He walked closer; his brown eyes filled with unguarded hope. “Can’t you call me Anthony?”

 _No one calls you that_ , the words were on the tip of his tongue, but something stopped Loki from voicing them.

Stark was asking for such a simple thing, and the choice of _Anthony_ over _Tony_ , showed how separate this man was from the man Loki had fought more than a dozen times. Who would it hurt to offer him this small concession?

“Very well,” Loki agreed. “I will call you Anthony while you reside here.”

Anthony offered another beaming smile. He also came forward and took a seat on one of the spare armchairs. He placed the tablet in his lap and said, “What are you reading?”

“A magic text.”

Anthony’s eyes erupted with curiosity and Loki could tell he was biting down on the urge to ask what it was about. Amused, Loki turned the book and offered it to the other man. Anthony grabbed it without hesitation, but the moment his eyes fell on the text, his expression fell.

Loki tried not to laugh. “It would be a feat, if you could read a text from Alfheim.”

Anthony huffed out an annoyed breath, but didn’t give the book back. “I’m sure I could work it out.”

“Not without many years of study,” Loki said, holding out his hand for the book. It was grudgingly handed back. “The language itself you could learn well enough, but the magical concepts would take a lifetime.”

“And I’m already at a disadvantage,” Anthony murmured, his voice low and deflated. “I don’t remember anything.”

Loki felt a twinge in his breast. It was normally fun to tease the mortal about his inability to understand magic but now it just felt uncomfortable. He didn’t fight and banter back, he deflated like someone had punched the wind from his gut.

Loki strived for something to distract him and alighted on an idea. He plucked a book from his shelves and with a small spell, made it readable for the Midgardian. It was a thick tome and would keep him occupied. He caught it in one hand and held it out to Anthony who’d jerked from his maudlin pose to frown at it.

“You may not be able to read a magic text, but you will be the first mortal to read these Asgardian tales.”

Anthony took the book with wide-eyes. “What are they about?”

“Bravery,” Loki drawled. “Or foolishness. There is a fine line where the Aesir are concerned. Yet, some of them are worthwhile stories.”

Anthony didn’t even drag his eyes away from the first glittering page; each tale began with a hand-painted opening image. This one was about the first Valkyries which had been one of Thor’s favourites when they were children.

Loki wondered what Anthony would think of his favourites; the ones of female mages saving whole kingdoms or cunning animals that lured foolish children into near-death situations, forcing them to use their wits to survive. 

Of course, Anthony was a warrior, perhaps it would be the stories of grand battles that he would connect to far more. Only time would tell.

Turning back to his own book, Loki refused to be curious or disappointed about what Anthony would choose. He was just a mortal, after all, and his opinion didn’t matter.

* * *

Loki shouldn’t care, and he told himself he wouldn’t - but when they stopped for lunch and Anthony declared his favourite story so far was one of Loki’s own favourites. Loki found his good mood improving. He also found himself opening up a little more around the mortal.

He admitted his own similar preferences, and before he knew what was happening, they spent an hour discussing the finer points of the stories. 

Loki had never done that with someone, and it was only when Anthony went to return to the book and he was cleaning up their dishes that he realised what had happened. He realised, he’d had _fun_ , and he was looking forward to talking with Anthony again when he’d read more of the tales.

He hadn’t forgotten that Anthony Stark was his enemy, but he _had_ forgotten what it was like to have a companion. It was rare that Loki had found someone on Asgard who liked to converse with him and was comfortable in his presence – truly, he needed to go to Alfheim for that. The Elves were the closest to a like-mind he’d ever found, but even they did not fit with him so easily.

The Elves were scholars and rigid in their thinking. They were more open-minded than the Aesir in many ways, but long-living races all grew stagnant. It was the mortals who spread chaos as easily as breathing. Long before Thor had grown attached to Midgard, Loki had been fond of visiting it and walking among the populace.

He’d never found a true companion among the mortals. He was well-aware that they would disappear in a heartbeat. Loki didn’t have the time or interest to invest in those who would be gone too soon.

Anthony Stark would be no different.

He would spend a handful of days with Loki and no matter the conversations they might have, he would soon remember all the reasons why he hated Loki.

Of course, there was nothing to stop Loki from enjoying those discussions while they lasted. 

After all, he was a known trickster who would take any advantage laid out for him.

Loki hid a smirk and glanced over his shoulder at the mortal. He was obliviously reading and unaware of what the next few days would bring. Loki would enjoy his time with a harmless, friendly companion, and look forward to when he became the formidable warrior Loki versed on the battlefield.

His embarrassment would be something to treasure.

* * *

Loki wouldn’t say he grew used to Anthony, but, as two days passed, he came to look forward to his morning coffee.

Anthony always woke first, and while he was quieter now, Loki found the smell of caffeine a pleasant aroma to wake to. He still pulled on an illusion every morning, but he lingered more at the breakfast table, speaking with Anthony.

He gained the occasional spark of memory: a robotic claw, the taste of coconut, laying beneath a car and fixing it, a glimmer of strawberry blond hair. It wasn’t enough to paint a picture, but it gave him tantalising puzzle pieces.

Loki had no choice but to give him more information on who he was. He kept himself out of the dossier, as well as the Avengers, focusing on the man before he had become Iron Man. He hoped that would also limit the chance of nightmares. Anthony had his share of trauma and Loki didn’t want to be the one dealing with it.

When he wasn’t reading about himself, Anthony was reading any Asgardian book Loki gave him. On the third day (Anthony was a fast reader, who absorbed information astonishingly fast) Loki gave him a text on Asgardian engineering for amusement.

He wanted to know what Anthony would do with it.

The answer? Build a model Asgardian longboat.

Loki hadn’t realised it was what he was doing. He’d asked for wood and tools and Loki had provided them before focusing back on his own reading.

It was only when his stomach rumbled to remind him of lunch that he turned to speak with Anthony and paused. He blinked, his incredulity deepening the closer he came. It was a scale model, and he’d been working with the most rudimentary tools and materials.

He was also creating it without schematics. He was piecing it together from what was described in the books. Anthony didn’t even notice him at first, his attention shifting between the boat and the words on the page. 

“Incredible,” Loki murmured.

Anthony jerked up his head, his eyes wide. Loki realised his mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back or downplay it.

“I knew you were intelligent, but I am impressed.”

Anthony smiled widely, revealing his perfect white teeth. The expression made his whole face light up. He picked up the longboat and stood, holding it out between them. 

“Then it’s right? I wasn’t sure about the stern, and then there’s the-”

“It’s a near perfect replica,” Loki interrupted.

Anthony frowned, looking down at the boat. “Near perfect? What did I do wrong?”

Loki’s lips twitched and he sent out a spark of green magic. “You didn’t make it fly.”

The ship rose from Anthony’s hands and skimmed through the air, making a circle around Anthony and leaving a trail of green and gold sparkles. Loki grinned at the little ship, but when he turned back, Anthony was frowning pensively at the ship.

“All it takes is faith and trust,” he whispered.

Loki frowned. “What?”

“And a little bit of pixie dust,” Anthony murmured, his eyes were unfocused, but he soon blinked back to the room. “It’s… something I know. Something to do with magic and flying.” He shook his head as if to clear it. He then smiled at Loki and then at the boat. “But _this_ is incredible. It really flies – like, the real one?”

“Yes,” Loki answered, letting the boat float back down to rest in Anthony’s waiting hands. “They are a common sight on Asgard.”

“They sound amazing,” Anthony said wistfully. “I’d love to fly.”

Loki opened his mouth, but swallowed down the words. He didn’t want to remind Stark of Iron Man. 

“They are amazing crafts, but can be dangerous to use.”

Anthony’s lips curled. “Isn’t the danger half the fun?” His eyes twinkled. “Chaos, right?”

Loki huffed out a laugh. “Perhaps.”

“I’d bet you’d be fun to race.”

“Oh, they stopped me from racing a long time ago.”

Anthony frowned. “Why?”

Loki smirked with pride. “I always won.”

Anthony’s attention was locked on him, full of intrigue and curiosity. “They sound like good stories.”

He already knew Anthony enough to know what he wanted. “Very well. Come assist me with lunch and I’ll tell you of the races.”

Anthony instantly put down the longboat, taking care not to damage it and trailed behind Loki eagerly. When they stepped into the kitchen, their arms brushed. It wasn’t uncommon over the last few days, but for the first time, Loki felt a shiver of warmth rush through him, but he shook it off and dismissed it.

He focused on pulling out ingredients and explaining what an Asgardian longboat race entailed and the prestige that came from winning the tourney.

Loki didn’t notice the way their bodies were curved together, and the way they were smiling at each other and laughing. He didn’t notice the way their hands brushed as they passed each other cutlery and food.

Loki didn’t notice any of it – he was too busy having fun, and watching the way Anthony’s face lit up with glee as he delighted in every victory Loki gained.

* * *

They didn’t go back to their respective projects that day. Loki found himself drawn into further discussions on the longboat until Loki was convinced to help Tony build a second one with the help of electronics and to make a miniature racetrack for them to use.

When both of them were airborne, the race was on.

They spent hours racing each other using magic and hastily crafted structures to alter the racecourse and keep the competition fresh. They stopped in between for more food and refreshments or for Loki to tell another story from Asgard.

Anthony loved to hear about his tricks and the ways he circumvented the rules to get what he wanted. He frequently had Anthony laughing – and now was no exception. It was late afternoon and he’d just told a story about when he’d placed an illusion over the rainbow bridge to make it only show shades of green. Heimdall had been displeased with him, especially when he changed the Gatekeeper’s armour to match.

Anthony had been lying on the floor fiddling with the mechanics of his longboat after Loki had deliberately clipped it to send it off course and paving Loki’s way to victory. He’d already dragged Loki onto the floor to help, and Loki had gone without protest.

They’d both paused so Loki could tell the story. Anthony was leaning his head on his hand, looking up at Loki with fondness. 

The moment was comfortable and Loki was at ease. He didn’t feel defensive or as if he should be on guard. It was why when Anthony shifted, he assumed he was going to get something to help fix the boat. When he entered Loki’s personal space, Loki only had a split-second to register what was happening before Anthony’s lips were against his own.

Loki sucked in a surprised breath before his eyes closed and he kissed back, his hand coming to cup Anthony’s cheek.

It was so easy, so _natural_ , to come together this way. Anthony understood him in ways that no other ever had. He listened to Loki and enjoyed his tricks and chaos. They slid together like complementary puzzle pieces.

_And he doesn’t know anything else._

Loki’s eyes snapped open and he pulled away from Anthony. The mortal’s eyes snapped open. “Loki-”

“Don’t do that again,” Loki said, his voice a little rough even as disappointment blossomed in his chest.

This man was his _enemy_ , and Loki had let his guard down too far. He’d thought Anthony wasn’t a threat, but clearly, he had miscalculated. 

“Loki,” Anthony said, his eyes and voice full of hurt. His hand rested gently on Loki’s chest. “But, we both want-”

“ _You_ don’t know what you want,” Loki cut in, his voice firm and his eyes narrowed. “You know nothing but a HYDRA prison and _me_. That is a bias even you can’t ignore.”

“But, I knew you before-”

Loki laughed harshly and shook his head. He rolled away, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I told you before, we are not _friends_ , Stark.”

“It’s _Anthony_ ,” he insisted. “And we’re friends now.” Anthony shifted closer, and Loki’s eyes darted to the man’s face as he leant over him. “We could be more than friends.”

Loki’s smile was wry. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“But-”

“I also think, I have kept you here too long.”

He raised his hand, planning to send Anthony to his tower without waiting for Thor, but Anthony caught his hand, and against his better judgement, Loki paused.

“What if I don’t want to go?” Anthony asked, his voice and eyes pleading. “What if I want to stay here with you?”

A brief smile touched Loki’s lips, and despite knowing it wouldn’t help either of them, Loki raised his hand and gently cupped Anthony’s cheek. The mortal leant into his touch and closed his eyes. Loki’s smile pulled a little wider, even as it became sadder.

“It is nice to hear someone say that, Anthony,” Loki told him gently. “But, this is not where you belong.”

Anthony’s eyes snapped open, pain and desperation on his face. “Loki-”

But Loki was already calling his seidr to him and letting it wrap around Anthony. He kept a hold on him until the last moment, looking into his frustrated, upset eyes as he faded from sight and reappeared standing in the middle of his penthouse.

When Anthony was gone, Loki closed his eyes and let his arms drop back to his sides. He had thought he’d have the last laugh after finding Anthony in that cell. Now, it seemed, Anthony and his Avengers would be the ones laughing after all.

* * *

Loki didn’t hear from Anthony, and in truth, he wasn’t expecting to.

He kept an eye on the Avengers, and watched the skies for any hint of Iron Man. He knew that Anthony’s memories could take time to return, his injury might even be irreparable (but Loki doubted Thor would let that happen. He would bring a healer from Asgard if need be).

It took four months before Iron Man took to the skies again, and even though Loki smiled with relief that Anthony was alright, the rest of him sighed over the knowledge he’d been right.

Anthony was gone and Stark had returned. Their brief interlude of friendship and… more was over. He had to accept that.

Loki started by packing away the longboats. He’d left them on the dining table during Anthony’s absence, half-hoping they would one day be used again. Loki knew better now. So, he carefully placed them into silk-lined wooden cases and sent them to a pocket dimension.

They were a reminder of an enjoyable, but lost companionship and he had to forget about them.

The next time he saw the mortal, he would be an enemy Loki faced, not a favoured guest.

Loki knew he should make a stand, attack the Avengers and prove that what they shared meant nothing to him. Yet, Loki didn’t. He left his transformation spell unfinished and spent his time off-world or pottering around the apartment.

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit that he couldn’t make a coffee as good as Anthony’s.

He found himself drinking tea in the mornings and only purchasing coffee from cafes. It was one such morning two weeks after Iron Man reappeared. He’d just finished a latte and was leaving the shop when he heard the whispers and confusion. They mentioned _Avengers Tower_ and Loki was curious (and concerned) enough to step out onto the street. 

He was wearing an illusion so no one would recognise him. Loki blended in with the growing crowd that were in the middle of the road, blocking traffic without a care as they looked up at the giant monument.

Only, unlike the normal large, blue ‘A’ to symbolise the superhero complex, the letter was now a very familiar green.

Loki stared, feeling shocked. The Midgardians in the street were already blaming _him_ for the colour change. Some were even wary about a new battle taking place and were hurrying to find shelter.

But, it _wasn’t_ him, and that left only one culprit.

Loki swallowed. He knew what it was; an _invitation_. It could be a terrible idea and a complete disaster but… Loki also couldn’t let the chance pass him by.

He disappeared from the street and reappeared invisible on the tower landing pad. He sent out his magic to cautiously check to see who was within it – but apart from Stark Industries employees on the lower floors, Anthony was the only person in the tower. There were no Avengers, no SHIELD agents. Nothing.

Anthony was far from defenceless of course, but it didn’t seem like a trap or an ambush. It was still a risk, but Loki was willing to take it.

He used his magic again and this time, he appeared within the penthouse, letting the mortal see him.

Anthony was waiting behind the bar, and there were two empty cups in front of him and a coffee machine to his right. Loki tried not to smile. It was the same make and model as his own.

The mortal was watching him carefully; Anthony wasn’t as open and trusting as he’d been without his memories, but nor was he as closed off and wary as he’d been as an enemy.

Loki didn’t know what it meant – or, why he was here.

“You called,” Loki drawled, injecting casual disinterest into his voice. He didn’t want to show how uncertain he truly was.

“You came,” Anthony countered. He gave a half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d even notice.”

“It is rather hard not to. The entire city is speaking of it.”

“Well,” Anthony’s grin widened. “Go big or go home, right?”

Loki’s lips twitched, but he refused to give into their banter, not when he still didn’t know why he was _here_.

“Why did you want my attention, Stark?”

An odd expression crossed the other man’s face. “Stark again?”

Loki hesitated. “I thought you would prefer that.”

Anthony sighed and looked away. He stared at the cups and turned one absently. “Look. I didn’t hate you, even when we fought. I was annoyed by you, and I knew you were dangerous but I didn’t _hate_ you.” He flicked his eyes up to Loki. “And after the way you treated me… you made hate even further from my mind than before.”

Loki’s mouth felt dry. “Then what is on your mind?”

Anthony’s lips twitched and he pushed one of the cups forward. “A cup of coffee?”

Loki chuckled. He knew Anthony did enjoy his caffeine – and yet, he also knew it was something else entirely.

“You do have a habit of offering me drinks.”

“What can I say?” Anthony said. “I like the company.”

The words made him suck in a small breath. This wasn’t a man without his memories and with no biases to make him reconsider. This was Anthony Stark: Iron Man, hero, engineer, and mortal - and he was still choosing Loki.

“Do you?” Loki asked, still unable to trust or believe it. “Knowing everything that you do?”

“Knowing everything I do,” Anthony confirmed, holding his gaze. “I didn’t just spend the last few weeks pretending it didn’t happen, Loki. I thought about it. I thought about you.” He smirked. “I want to kick your ass at longboat racing again.” Loki snorted, but Anthony wasn’t done. “I want to finish reading that book on Asgardian fairytales. I want to get to know you again, and,” his eyes darted down to Loki’s lips before back to his eyes. “I want to see what can happen.”

He kept his eyes locked on Loki’s while moving his hand to the coffee machine. He hovered his fingers over the buttons.

“So,” Anthony said, “want to have a coffee with me?”

Loki lips curled into a smile and he felt excitement rush through his chest. He walked over to the bar, watching the way Anthony’s eyes softened with every step he took. It wasn’t the same as before, but Loki didn’t want it to be. 

He wanted _this_ – a man with full knowledge of what he was getting himself into, and despite the complications, he was choosing Loki anyway. 

He took a seat and placed his arms on the counter. He held brown eyes and finally answered, “I would like to have a coffee with you, Anthony.”

Anthony grinned. “Coming right up, Lokes.”

_Lokes._

A new nickname and something only Anthony Stark would dare to say to him. He almost smiled.

Anthony might be gone and Stark might have returned, but Loki didn’t mind anymore.

In fact, he rather thought that _this_ was turning out to be something he could find himself enjoying for many years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they learn themselves all over again and get together and happy ending. Tadah.


End file.
